Life after Death
by Star Fata
Summary: Death really changes a woman, in some ways for the better. Femshep, hint of Garrus/Femshep. Oneshot


**AN- This was intended to be an Ashley/Femshep friendship fic, with the idea that death has caused Shepard to relax a bit. Best laid plans of mice and me.... I ended up with this. Whatever it is. Hint of Garrus/Femshep. I tried to avoid naming her, and failing that I gave her a different name than my own femshep, just so I'd avoid imposing my own thoughts on her more than strictly necessary. There's a star called Mira (pronounced MY-Rah) in the draco constellation. It's the eye of the dragon. Of course, in game Mira is an annoying VI, so I changed the spelling to fit pronounciation.**

**Disclaimer- If you recognise it, it isn't mine.**

It was doubtful that Miranda had any idea of what Project Lazarus had done. Yes, they'd salvaged a symbol of humanity, a powerful and influential soldier. Yes they'd done the impossible and reanimated a corpse.

_Yes, they'd brought Commander Shepard back from the dead._

Trouble was, no one had bothered to ask Commander Shepard if she wanted to be brought back from the dead. Alright, she wouldn't have been able to respond if they had, but they hadn't even thought about it. They'd thought that humanity needs Shepard, and assumed she be grateful for it. Grateful that they'd reversed the reversible, just for her to do what she'd always done. Shoot the bad guys and do her duty.

_Do her duty. Like she'd always done. Good ole Shepard, she'll do what's right._

The first time around, that was all she had done. She'd defended the Alliance the same way that Miranda defended Cerberus, because she was an Alliance Soldier first, a human second and a woman third. She smiled at politicians, because the Alliance didn't need bad press. She'd kept her temper when dealing with utter morons, because good soldiers didn't go around shooting people who pissed them off. Good soldiers didn't drink on duty, and good soldiers followed the regs.

Even when she'd decided to liberate the Normandy and go after Saren, she'd been doing her duty. Her duty as a Spectre was to preserve galactic peace and uphold the safety of the Galaxy. Her duty elevated her above rank and file... which meant that according to their own damn induction, the council couldn't tell her what to do. At least, that was how she'd justified it to herself.

How _pathetic_ she'd been, needing to justify defying orders in order to save the entire damn galaxy.

Thing is, death had a way of changing your priorities. The time after she'd been spaced was hazy, but it had been real. She knew it to the core of her being, the same way she knew she couldn't abandon her duty.

But, as Ashley (who'd been lost to her duty, because she'd traded her sister for the good of the majority) had told her, when they'd realised that Shepard was going back, there was no reason for her duty to be all she was.

On the beach of wherever they were, Ashley had looked beautiful. When she tried to think of it, looking back, she had the impression of Ashley's hair being loose, and of enjoying the warmth of a sun that would never die.

"I don't regret anything. You know that Skipper. But in retrospect, I don' think I would have regretted letting my hair done once in a while. Or even kissing a few turians." Ashley had said, looking over at her with a smile.

"I think Garrus may have objected." Shepard had joked back.

Ashley's laugh had been the last thing she'd heard before she'd fallen into the darkness.

Now, she'd been awake for nearly a full month, mining for resources, shooting bad guys, and getting to know her crew.

They'd just left Horizon, and Kaidan's words were fresh in her mind. He thought that she'd betrayed everything she stood for? She didn't remember him being that idiotic, or that blind. He'd told her himself that the Alliance made mistakes, and he'd suffered because of one of them. He'd seen other people suffer because of Jump Zero. As her lieutenant, he'd seen his fair share of the Reapers, and yet he appeared to have thrown his lot in with the Council. Who still didn't believe in the Reapers.

He'd warned her against cutting corners. Maybe his little snit was because he thought she'd ignored his advice?

Nevertheless, something he'd said had brought it home to her. _She wasn't Alliance_. Which meant it was about damn time she stopped acting like it.

Commander Shepard looked into her mirror and smiled, before reaching for the small bag she'd purchased on the Fuel Depot from a nice saleswoman who was also there.

It would be a lie to say that when she stepped into the Main Battery, less than half an hour later, she was a new woman. She looked different, yes. But she was still herself, just with a slight attitude adjustment that had been bound to happen sooner rather than later.

"Hey Garrus." She called. "Just realised I'm technically a civilian now. I think I'm going to need a few drinks to get over the shock."

Surprised, the turian turned around. "Shepard?"

There she stood, her hair out of its customary, practical up-do and flowing to her shoulders. Her cheeks were tinted a subtle red, and the outline of her eyes was darker. She offered him a can of what he recognized as dextro-amino beer. She had another can in her hand, one he was willing to bet contained levo-amino alcohol.

"Myra." She corrected, firmly.

He accepted the can. "Civilian? You? **That's** a call for drink if there ever was one, Myra."

Garrus was gratified to hear her laugh. The slight nervousness he'd noticed when she walked in was eradicated, and she relaxed in his company.

As they talked, exchanging quips and opinions indiscriminately, Myra Shepard went through a mental checklist.

**Drinking despite ongoing mission?** Check.

**Putting the woman before the soldier?** Check.

**Enjoying herself with a friend?** Check.

**Kissing turians?**

Shepard hid her grin behind her beer. Maybe another time.


End file.
